


I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

by forthegenuine



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: A Gathering of Shadows Spoilers, Consensual Kink, F/M, Kissing, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Sexual Roleplay, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26889562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthegenuine/pseuds/forthegenuine
Summary: Elsor all but spits out the words. “You let me win.”Kamerov snarls, “It was a mercy.”“Come now, Master Loste,” Elsor scoffs. “Between magicians like us, what you did was not mercy. It was aninsult.”
Relationships: Delilah Bard/Kell Maresh, Kamerov Loste/Stasion Elsor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. I bring you a naughty Kamerov Loste/Stasion Elsor fic that no one asked for. Pronouns are hard, and are even more challenging unbeta'd, so all mistakes are totally mine. This is low-key dedicated to the peeps in the Shades of Magic discord. I hope someone out there is thirsty for this pairing. 
> 
> Enjoy.

"Stop and wait a sec  
Oh, when you look at me like that, my darling  
What did you expect?  
I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck  
Or I did last time I checked"  
––Arctic Monkeys

⁂

He lets himself into his rented room above the tavern. Despite the noise of drink and song rising from downstairs, as soon as he closes the door behind him, he feels a subtle shift in the air. And though he has been out of the game and out of practice for a considerable amount of time, his senses still prick in awareness. 

There is someone else in the room with him. 

In his haste, he only manages to get half his mask on, covering his head but leaving his mouth and jaw exposed. 

The figure, cloaked in the dark, sits perched on the bed, silhouetted by the glow from the gas-lamp that passes through the window. He makes out the outline of a horned head atop a slim physique, familiar yet at the same time, a stranger. A snap of fingers and the candle’s flame flickers to life, casting them both in a dim light and long shadows. He recognizes the intruder’s dark hair and smirking mouth hidden behind a mask of demon’s teeth.

“ _Avan, ras_ Elsor,” Kamerov greets in Arnesian, though it is something other than welcome that tinges his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Stasion Elsor stands to full height, takes two steps toward him, and replies in their tongue, voice rough. “I came to have a word with you.”

“The tournament’s long over. You won our contest. What else is there to talk about?”

“I’ve been thinking about our little match. I don’t think I won fairly. You were holding back.” Elsor all but spits out the words. “You let me win.”

Kamerov snarls, “It was a mercy.”

“Come now, Master Loste,” Elsor scoffs. “Between magicians like us, what you did was not mercy. It was an _insult_.” 

“What do you want?”

Elsor is only inches away from him now, chin tilted upward in challenge. “A rematch. No weapons, no magic. Just us.” 

“Where?”

“Right here, right n––“ Elsor does not even get a chance to finish the word, being too busy dodging the blow Kamerov swipes, a jab that might have landed on the head. Elsor moves on light feet, however, and a leg swings in a graceful arch, connecting at Kamerov’s chest.

Kamerov takes the hit and staggers backward, but recovers his stance quickly. Where he felt rigid before, he now feels his heart beat faster beneath his chest, muscles loosening, his body anticipating their little dance, as if it remembers meeting this same adversary in the arena back in Red London. He feels the grimace he wore only a few moments ago slowly quirk into a smile, just at the corners. He did not keep it from showing on his face.

He feints to his left and Elsor anticipates a block to the right. In that moment of distraction, he moves upon Elsor, darting behind his enemy. He drives Elsor against the wall, twisting then securing an arm behind the back, while his own arm curls around, locking Elsor’s throat beneath the crook of his elbow. He leans in, applying pressure. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Kamerov snarls. Feeling wicked, he grinds his body into Elsor’s, pinning the other against the wall with his weight. Elsor strains against him. With every minute, Kamerov feels bolder, and though he initially fights it, curiously, he feels a fair amount of blood rush downward, the beginnings of a familiar flutter. Boldly, he tightens his grip at his elbow at the same time he applies a little more force against Elsor, letting his enemy feel his thrust, and the subsequent gasp echoes in the small room. This pleases Kamerov, and it does something to him that is unexpected, but not unwanted. He presses his mouth close to Elsor’s ear, his voice low, “I saw the way you looked at me during the _Essen Tasch_. Don’t tell me this hadn’t crossed your mind.” 

Kamerov feels Elsor grin through the mask. Suddenly, a sharp pain lodges itself in his side. He knows there will be a bruise where Elsor has rammed an elbow into his ribs. Kamerov doubles over, releasing Elsor from his grasp. 

He feels himself shoved backward by the shoulders, the backs of his thighs hitting the edge of the bed, and he topples over. He is on his back, looking up at his rival, not unlike how Elsor stood before him many months ago, towering over him, dazzling, in the arena. It is then that Kamerov realizes there is another conflict tipping on the precipice, one with his own body, and one that he is gladly losing. 

He tries to think of something other than the growing heaviness gathering in the lower part of his body, but it becomes rather impossible, when Elsor is on top of him, knees on either side of his hips. The old bed creaks under the weight of them both. A grip, surprisingly strong, wrests both of his arms above his head, and he is immobile. 

" _Kers la_?” asks Elsor, silkily, but there is no waiting for an answer. Kamerov feels a hand snake downwards and his toes curl when he feels Elsor’s touch. There is no hiding the bulge on the front of his breeches and he releases a groan when Elsor reaches back and strokes his hardness through the fabric. 

It is only when Elsor begins unbuttoning his shirt, while still rhythmically fondling him, that Kamerov realizes his arms have been released from their hold. But he dares not move them for fear of breaking some kind of spell, though he knows there is no magic at work here. There was only the glide of movement, beguiling and anchoring his body at the same time. 

Elsor, the work on his shirt front done, slides the fabric off Kamerov’s chest, exposing his skin to the cool air of the room. Without warning, Elsor grasps the back of Kamerov’s head and pulls on his hair, tilting his chin upwards. It is not painless but Kamerov’s hiss is stopped at its source when he feels Elsor’s lips cover his mouth in a searing kiss. The kiss is tongue and teeth and wet, and the sound of their lips’ meeting is accompanied by the noisy clatter of their duelling masks. His cock is now unbearably hard under the enemy’s hand, and Kamerov squirms under Elsor helplessly. The kiss stops just then, teeth dragging across Kamerov’s lower lip, as Elsor pulls back almost languidly––both the touch above and below his waist––clearly enjoying this new brand of torture. 

Kamerov barely manages to contain the sound of disappointment at the loss of contact. He all but shudders when Elsor disengages from him entirely, leaving him bereft of warmth. 

But then he sees the horned figure at the foot of the bed. He briefly notices the laces of his breeches are unlaced, and before he can form the question of when that has happened, his shaft is engulfed in a fist and a few unnecessary pumps, followed by Elsor’s hot, waiting mouth. Elsor’s tongue circles the tip, flicking and dragging, while lips encase him in a delicious cocoon. 

Kamerov lifts his head, and through the slits of his helmet, he watches the horned head bobbing up and down, his cock disappearing inside lips and mask. Elsor’s cheeks hollow around his length and he cannot keep his hips from rising to meet the rhythm. He is already on the verge of delirium when he says, “Oh, saints, Lil— _ow!_ Did you just bite me?” 

"Master _Loste_ ,” Elsor reminds him pointedly. “I am _busy_.” He swears he hears a stifled giggle from between his legs. 

He opens his mouth again to protest but out of it comes only a sound of pleasure, lost somewhere between a shudder and a laugh, as Elsor resumes licking, starting at the tip of him. 

After a few moments, all is forgiven, and his mind drifts back to the haze of rapture and he would like nothing more than to give in to the ecstasy promised by his body. But at last, Kamerov summons the last ounce of his wits. He sits up and places his hands on either side of Elsor’s head, ceasing the motions, his cock sliding out obscenely. He bites his bottom lip to keep from crying out. 

“The game will be over quite quickly,” he swallows, a little waver in his voice. “If you keep carrying on like that.”

Elsor tilts a head, as if to consider his plea. To Kamerov’s gratitude and his body’s dismay, Elsor disengages from him once more, straightening at the foot of the bed. A hand smooths the slick dark hair back underneath the mask, as if it is simply a minor inconvenience. A burst of envy hits Kamerov to see Elsor so wholly unaffected by this dance. But as Kamerov watches more closely, he notices a slight tremor in Elsor’s hand. A weakness. It is small, but it is there. 

Feeling emboldened, he stretches up and knocks Elsor into the bed, bringing his enemy back down with him. Though he is limited in movement by his open trousers, it does not take much to overtake a distracted Elsor, and he has his opponent on the back in less than a few seconds. He hovers for a moment, unable to resist gloating, before leaning in. “My turn,” he growls and claims Elsor’s lips with his. 

His kiss has a little more roughness than it normally does, his tongue is a little more insistent, his teeth have a little more bite. But its recipient is willing and more than a little eager to participate. Kamerov hears stifled moans beneath their masks, and he is suddenly unsure of whom the sounds belong to. Meanwhile, Elsor’s hands find their way to his skin, shedding the unbuttoned tunic to reveal a torso that has seen the change of the several months since they last met. He feels Elsor smirk appreciatively. 

His own hand drifts downward, between Elsor’s thighs and feels a dampness that belies the cool exterior. His kiss travels downward as well, kissing and nipping at Elsor’s neck and throat. There, at the pulse point, Kamerov registers the swift heartbeat that mirrors his own, and plants the softest of kisses on it. Elsor lets out a sigh. He continues to rub Elsor between the legs, while the other hand finds Elsor’s nipple through the shirt and his thumb flicks at it, back and forth, calling it to attention. He brings his mouth to Elsor’s other nipple, his lips ghosting over it through the fabric. 

“K-Kamerov,” breathes Elsor. 

His cock, spurred to life once more, twitches with eagerness and he feels dreadfully uncomfortable in the confines of his own clothing. He wishes he could remove his mask. Elsor’s clothing and mask, too, while he is granting imaginary wishes. He reaches down and attempts to unlace Elsor’s pants, but his hopeless fingers merely grope in the dark unsuccessfully. Elsor lets out a noise of frustration, bats away his hands impatiently, and completes the liberation for him. 

Kamerov uses the moment to peel his own breeches from his hips. His heart beats wildly at the thought of the satisfaction yet to come. But first, there is something he needs to discover. 

His hand travels between Elsor’s legs again and he dips a finger inside, finding it more than a little damp. It elicits a gasp from Elsor, so he adds a second finger, and begins pumping in and out. His digits slide easily, and they are unaccountably wet. It makes his cock delectably hard, this vindication, this effect he has on Stasion Elsor. “Have you been thinking about this all night?” he dares. “Is this what you imagined?” 

“Get on with it, Loste,” Elsor grits out.

Kamerov doesn’t move except to swirl his thumb on the sensitive nub, teasing it, while his fingers continue thrusting, stroking her inner walls. It sends Elsor’s body to trembling. “Not until you say my name.”

“Kamerov Loste.”

"No, _my_ name,” Kamerov insists. He holds his gaze steady on Elsor. 

Elsor reaches up and takes the helmet off his head, and tosses it to the side. It lands with a clank on the floor. The horned mask follows. 

“ _Kell_ ,” says Lila breathlessly, crossing her arms at the hem of her shirt, and lifts it off and over her head. It is dispatched the way of the masks. “Will you please fuck me now?”

“Anything for you, Lila.” With great relief, he replaces his fingers, and he sinks into her and it is like coming home. 

The charged air between them disappears as he leans in to kiss her, catching her moan. She opens her mouth for him, allowing his tongue to breach past her teeth. She cants her body upwards toward him, and he can feel her breasts pressed up against his chest. He relishes in the feel of her, now that the final barriers between them are removed. 

He begins to rock slowly at first into her, but the time for tease and preamble has long since past. His movements turn into thrusts, and she meets him halfway, hips building a tide of pleasure, while the bed creaks in protest. He returns his hand between their bodies, to the place where they are joined, and he finds the bud to hasten Lila into oblivion first. 

Her head falls back into the pillows, as her grip on his shoulders tighten, and urgent pleadings and his name, his true name, fill the room. He watches her peak, feels her walls clench around his cock, and he knows he will follow not too long after. He bucks, hips erratic, as he cries out his own release, spilling into her. 

He hangs his head, forehead touching hers for a moment, as his heartbeat and breath catch up to the rest of him. Lila cradles the back of his head and kisses him on the lips softly. He lowers himself next to her and they both stare at the ceiling for a few moments, tremulous but sated.

⁂

They were in bed, similarly unclothed, a sheen of perspiration covering their bodies, when Lila posed the question one night several weeks ago. “Do you still have the mask you wore in the _Essen Tasch_? When you were Kamerov Loste?” 

She was splayed halfway across his chest, after unsuccessfully depositing her entire body on her side of the bed after she had ridden him to their exhaustion. She was drawing small circles over his scar, a soothing tattoo that mirrored his heartbeat. A faint buzz lingered in the air, and it took him a long moment to register her question. “Mmm… I think so. Why?”

“I still have my Stasion Elsor mask.” She shrugged a shoulder against him, and yawned. “I’ve just had a thought that it might be interesting for us to wear them again and see what happens.”

Boneless and breath subsiding, Kell was too tired to do anything with her suggestion other than tuck it away for another time. He felt his eyes drifting closed, the _Night Spire_ ’s gentle rocking helping the lull, and all he could get out was a noncommittal “Hm” before he fell asleep. 

⁂

Lila is the first to speak above the faraway din of the tavern below them, still lively so late into the night. “I sincerely hope that we never run into the real Stasion Elsor when we go back to London.”

“Truly,” Kell laughs in agreement. He turns his head to face her. “I love your mad ideas.”

“Is that all you love about me?”

“I can think of a few other reasons.”

She smiles, not the devilish grin of an invented persona, but one that is accompanied by a faint blush and reserved for him alone. It is one of the first things he has added to his list of reasons. 

“Although, I can’t say if I’ll love how I’m going to feel tomorrow morning,” he says, wincing and rubbing his chest. “I’m not even sure who won. I call it a draw.”

Lila’s eyes light up. “Kell, darling. Are you saying you want another rematch?”

"Yes, Lila. I am.” 

His last thought, as Lila pulls him into her embrace, is that he is so very glad to be Kell Maresh. 

⁂

**_end_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback, kudoses, and comments are very greatly appreciated.
> 
> Let's be friends on tumblr: I'm [@forthegenuine](http://forthegenuine.tumblr.com). Cheers! x


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